Of Mortal Flesh
by Harra286
Summary: Tyrael approaches Evaryn for help dealing with certain aspects of his mortality. One-shot; Rated T for slightly adult themes discussed.


Of Mortal Flesh.

Evaryn pulled off her armour and tossed it into her chest along with her crossbows before sinking into the nearest chair. She'd been quick to claim the decrepit hut overlooking the camp as her place of rest; though not the most comfortable, it was the most strategically viable. If Belial planned to attack her or her comrades while they slept, she'd be able to see it from miles away. The thought of it urged her to look out of the askew window to do a quick scan of the horizon for the enemy though it was clear there were none.

She slept in the only room in the house that neither suffered massive structural damage nor bore the overwhelming stench of rot - the attic room, from the looks of it the bedroom of a child. Evaryn was pleased with it, she had a fair vantage point and had managed to create the private space she'd desperately needed after the uncomfortable position of having to share in Tristram. She cared greatly for her fellow Nephalem and other companions but by the High Heavens she was glad she no longer had to share caravans with them. Her eyes wandered out of the window to scan the landscape again, calmly this time; her friends all seemed to be sleeping. She hated Kehjistan's blazing heat but by nightfall the air was cooler, softer almost.

Her ears pricked at the sound of shuffling from downstairs, and Evaryn was quick to grab up her crossbows. They were footsteps, there was no doubt of this. Evaryn leaned into the door, determining the source of the noise was coming towards her. She slid out of her room, and with a sudden new appreciation for the large landing space outside, she vaulted across to press tightly to the wall on the other side, ready to shoot the intruder as soon as a foot hit the top step. Though, as they grew near, Evaryn recognised the gait, the stilted breathing and the gentle aura.  
"Tyrael?" She called as the intruder reached the bottom of the flight of stairs.  
"It is I," He said carefully. "I did not mean to startle you."  
"Bah," the Huntress snorted. "You were so noisy I'm surprised you haven't given away my position to the enemy yet."  
"I suppose I should be used to getting scathing criticism from you, Huntress." He chuckled, and Evaryn invited him into the room.  
"Please," she gestured for him to sit at the small table where she had her meals, and did so herself. "What brings you here?"  
"I… I had something I wanted to ask of you."  
"Of course," She crossed her legs smoothly and looked up at him.  
"I cannot fathom how mortals can stand it; you have all these urges. I cannot make heads or tails of them." Tyrael slumped in the chair opposite her.

"Is a mortal existence really so different?"

"Being an angel is having one feeling echoed in every fiber of your being. When I became mortal I was first emptied, then slowly refilled by many different feelings all at once." Tyrael spoke slowly, quietly, staring intently at the floorboards. "And then there are the needs of having mortal flesh. I still cannot fathom the practices of breathing or eating or sleeping, nor can I deny… want for companionship."  
 _He may have left his life in the High Heavens, but he still lives by it..._ Evaryn realised. She hated the glimmer of humiliation burning hot in his cheeks, and had to stop herself from reaching over to comfort him.  
"Tell me what I can do to ease this burden, Tyrael."

"If your offer still stands, I would like…that is to say, I want to…I want-"

Evaryn slid off her seat to sit cross-legged in front of Tyrael. She placed her hands on his head and gently but surely lifted his gaze until liquid gold eyes met her deep blue ones.  
"What you want is not shameful. It's human."  
"Lust is a demon." His voice was hard as steel - gone was the fragile demeanour as he pulled his head out of Evaryn's hands.  
"You speak as if I could forget such a thing."  
"Then why have you?"  
"I have not, it is you that has forgotten."  
"Forgotten what?"  
"That humanity carries just as much darkness as it does light. As such, we simply cannot be as angels are." Evaryn shifted onto her knees, planting firm hands on both of his shoulders. She waited on his signal, any shift in body language to intimate his permission.

" ...If I am to truly embrace humanity, I must accept darkness?"  
"Accept it and strive to overcome it, as all humans do."  
"Then..." He took a shaky breath, slipping gloved hands into the pale ones resting on him. With all the courage he could muster, he leaned forward to capture the Huntress's lips.


End file.
